étoiles dorées
by Ms. AtomicBomb
Summary: What do a closet door, a knight and a snowstorm have in common? Well, it's a little complicated. On the spring Equinox, a snowstorm sweeps through England, with it bringing a mysterious man. Obviously, Jeanne isn't expecting what comes tumbling through her closet door nor is she prepared to take care of the Knight.
1. prologue

_Author's Note_

Hello and welcome to

 _étoiles dorées_

My first multi-chapter GawainxJeanne (although it will be very, very slow on the romance). I am very excited for this one.  
I already have five chapters written (on-top of this one) and I very much hope you will all like it and hopefully will follow it as it grows.  
And so, without further ado, I welcome you all to the first chapter of this very interesting fic.

Sincerely,

 _Ms. AtomicBomb_

* * *

"Non, maman," Jeanne shook her head, "I did not have class today. Though, I thought it best to go to campus since I did not want to get distracted." She closed the fridge after having taken out a plate of food. It had begun to snow about mid way into the day and thus she had decided to jump on the bus and head home before the weather got any worse. Winter days always made her much more dazed and tired than she normally was on a school day, especially when it was near the end of the semester and exams were on their way.

"Well, I am glad you made it back before the storm hit." Her mother sat down at the living room, glancing over at her before switching the television on. Immediately the news broadcast invaded the previously silent room.

"—The Western storm has reached England and there is expected to be thirty centimeters of snow, lighting and thunder are also expected and sleet is likely to precipitate early tomorrow morning. An extreme weather warning had been initiated and it is advised that everyone stay home. It is eight thirty-nine, this has been—"

"Scary," Isabel, her mother, shuddered, "I do hope Jacques is safe."

Jeanne managed to shove a piece potato and a bit of rice in her mouth before she spoke again. "Is everyone home?"

"Your father is on his way, he called and said he would be here soon. He got held up at work. Catherine is keeping Pierre calm and Jean is playing games on his computer again."

"You know what upsets me? Snow in late March. Why is there a thunderstorm at this time? Isn't the equinox today or something?"

"This winter has been really harsh…"

She sat down next to her mother, crossing her legs and tuning into the television. More urgent news followed, and she exchanged some words with her mother before she finished her dinner and cleaned after herself. She bid a good night to her mother and climbed up the stairs to her attic bedroom. It took her a while to get ready for bed, so she always wanted to head up earlier.

She hurried to the bathroom to wash her face, ridding herself of any make-up before she washed her teeth and applied moisturizing cream to her face, after finishing up in the washroom, she walked to her bed, which was settled below a sunroof. She undid her long braid and ruffled her hair as so to let it free from the tight hold. She pulled out her pajama from the small closet and prepared to change. Slipping the soft dress over her head, the room lit with a lightning flash and immediately the lights flickered off, as soon as the lights turned off, thunder shook the house. The ear-splitting sound boomed around her and her bed rattled, her small frame shaking along with the house.

Silence filled her room as she was stuck still and the howling wind could be heard through the windows, making the house feel as if it were made out of cards and not brick and wood. Jeanne stood in the darkness, snow whipping against the windows, shaking them and thunder could be heard from far away. She finally breathed, stepping towards the bed and slowly sitting down.

"They'll come back on," she assured herself of the lights and slowly slipped under the covers, hoping to fall asleep through the storm. She did her nightly prayers in the dark, which took about fifteen minutes and after doing the sign of the cross she prepared to fall back on her bed. But, just as she settled, lightning struck and washed her room in flashing white light. Thunder rumbled almost instantly, shaking the attic once more and within seconds the electricity returned.

She took a deep breath, but it was caught in her throat when her closet door burst open and in stumbled a man with a long blue cape, tumbling to the floor with a crash as if he had run into the room at full speed. His blond head lifted from the floor and he seemed to look around before his head fell again and hit the floor with another thump.

She heard footsteps running through the house towards her room. "Jehanette! Mom wants to know if you're okay? Why is your door locked?" She heard the voice of her brother past her closed door.


	2. one

_moonlight most delicate, stars most bright and a beauty most divine_

one

Jeanne took a deep breath after the lights had returned, but it was caught in her throat when her closet door burst open letting in a gust of cold freezing air that penetrated through her skin and settled in her bones. Then, out of the literal nowhere, in stumbled a man with a long blue cape and fur on the shoulders of it. He tumbled to the floor with as much grace as one could possibly have and landed with a crash. It was almost as if he had run into the room at full speed. What sounded like silver platters hitting the wooden floor filled her bedroom and she sat in shock. Staring in terror at the intruder.

His blond head lifted from the floor and he seemed to look around before his head fell again and hit the floor with another thump. She immediately jumped from her bed and held back any comments. Looking between the man on the floor and the closet she tried to find an explanation.

Snow flew in through the open closet door, wind howling with rage and she peaked through it, bewildered by the scene before her. A snowy terrain lay behind the door frame, it was no longer her closet but a doorway to another world…or that's what it looked to be. Her thin dress was no shield against the cold and nipping air that caused chills all over her body. What was odd was that the door seemed to be on ground level and not as high as the attic was. Then, before she could fully process it, the door shut closed abruptly; just as sudden as everything else.

"Jehanette! Maman wants to know if you're okay?" She heard the voice of her brother past her closed door. She jumped, heart skipping in her chest as she looked over towards it.

"Y-yes, I… I just, uh, the lamp fell." Jeanne wasn't exactly sure why she concealed the entire truth (as her bedside lamp had been knocked over) . It would be hard to explain that a man had, quite literally, come out of the closet. Of _her_ bedroom closet.

Her brother scoffed, "That sounded like more than just a lamp." The door knob rattled, and she was thankful she had locked it as second nature earlier.

"A gust of wind flew in and knocked the lamp over. I'm fine, it's fine now. So, you could go to bed now."

"Fine, have it your way." Jean walked off, and she could hear his footsteps diminishing as he jogged down the stairs.

Jeanne looked back at the nearly limp body, the only thing that indicated that he was, in fact, alive, was that his head twitched, almost as if he had been electrocuted and his back rose and fell as he breathed. Slowly and cautiously, she took calculated steps towards the man, analyzing every move he made—not that he made any. She figured he had fainted, probably caused by the hard fall he took.

Running back to the closet, she opened the door, but it revealed her plain old closet. She was still puzzled and shocked, the man on the floor with water droplets around him proved that the closet had opened to the outside.

…How had the man stumbled through her closet? Or rather, how had the closet opened to the outside world?

Jeanne knelt next to the man (after having fixed her bedside lamp), poking his cheek to see if he would wake, but he did not. With a struggle, she flipped him over on his back, allowing herself a proper view of him.

He was clothed with strange but fancy clothing. He had a black jacket of sorts, with golden embroidery running down the center. His hands were covered in gauntlets and he also had armour on from his waist down. There was a long sword sheathed to his hip and the majestic cape fanned around him; shoulders and neckline adorned with soft grey wolf's fur, two golden chains kept the cape on him.

The man, himself, did not look foreign. He looked like an Englishman, like any regular Englishman. He had blonde hair that fell to his eyes and a strong jaw. His face was pale, and he looked nearly sick, but he definitely seemed as if he was not from there, at least not from the present time. It almost looked, by the quality of his dresswear and the sword, as if he were from the past, or (alternatively) a very good cosplayer.

She stood from the floor, scratching her head and thinking over what had happened but all she could remember was thunder and then the man in her room. There wasn't much to it. He really had appeared out of thin air. She walked back to her closet and opened it a few more times, checking if it would open to the snow storm again, but it never did. All she ever saw were the few jackets and dresses she had hung inside and, of course, the wall behind them.

Looking around her room for her phone, she found it on her night stand. After reaching it, she unlocked it and quickly searched her contacts for her best friend. Finding her fast, she clicked on the phone number and brought it to her ear. If there was someone that she could tell anything and everything to—it was her best friend.

 _Ding, ding, ding._

No service… the storm had knocked out all service there was and that left Jeanne with no help. She tried calling again, and again, and again. _Nothing_.

She looked back at the man, scratching her head and falling onto her bed. There was no way she could keep him there; her mother always woke her up in the mornings and entered the room unannounced with a master key. There was no possible way (in her mind at least) that she could hide a man.

Jeanne stood from the bed, slipping into some sweatpants and walking to the bathroom. She picked up a small bottle and filled it with water, making her way back to the man. She poured the water gently on his face and watched as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He groaned, trying to settle his gaze on something, but he failed, and his eyes fluttered closed a couple of times.

She held her breath, analyzing if he was of any danger, but he seemed much too out of it to attack her, if that were the case. "Are you alright?" She asked.

His blue eyes finally opened, pain written on his face as the young woman came into view. "You…" he breathed, "I—wh…"

She noticed he lifted his hand and took a hold of shoulder as he winced in pain. "I won't hurt you…but, uhm…where do you come from?"

He opened his mouth, his lips dry and his cheeks flushed. "I…" he couldn't form proper sentences.

"Do you want water? Are you thirsty?" She spoke from the security of her bed, looking down at him with wide violet eyes. "Water?" She made an action as if to drink a glass of water.

He coughed, nodding his head and rolling slightly on the floor, she guessed he was in great pain.

Jeanne stood from the bed again, jumping around the man. She filled a glass with water from the bathroom sink and knelt next to him, handing him the glass. He reached for the glass with his free hand but failed when he couldn't stretch it any further, a cry of pain escaping his lips.

Jeanne took deep breaths and set the water down next to her, she offered him a hand, but he shook his head.

"My," he huffed, "my shoulder."

Immediately, she looked over at his shoulder, seeing that it did not look right, and she gave a frown, cringing at the sight. She rounded him again, onto his other side and hesitantly took his hand away from his shoulder. She just watched him, analyzing how strange he was.

"Is it serious?" His accent gave her assurance he was an Englishman. Looking at his eyes, she gave a puzzeled look.

"W-well," she looked back at his shoulder, it was twist far from natural. "I am no doctor, but it looks bad. I think it might be dislocated."

" _Dislocated_?" The man wheezed.

She nodded. "Mhm, we would have to take you to the doctor's." She said but then she gasped, "Wait, I don't think we should do that… you, where…where do you come from?"

He finally opened his eyes wide enough and gave her a most confused look. "Where am I then?" He asked.

She frowned. "In my room."

"I understand that much, my fair lady," he stopped to take deep breaths, looking at her intently, "but, what village? What duchy?"

Jeanne took his arm and he gasped. "What, may I ask, are you doing, my lady?"

She looked at him. "It's going to hurt, I won't lie. Just, please, do not make any noise, my parents will kill me if they find out you're here."

"Your father would truly—hmpf!" She pulled his arm and he immediately covered his mouth, hoping to muffle his cry of pain. He writhed on the floor in pain and agony, pulling his arm back towards him after a popping sound had filled the room.

She cringed, the noise filling her mind and causing her to shake. "Shhh." She held a finger to her lips. "I know it hurts but I will die if you move too much. Here, let's get you onto the bed."

Jeanne helped him up to a sitting position and then up onto his feet, leading him slowly and silently towards the bed. She sat him down.

"My lady, the king will look favourably upon you for your kind hospitality and for…agh," he held his arm once more, "for risking your own life to protect me."

She frowned, "Well, now that you seem physically able to answer my questions…" She looked him up and down, "Who are you?"

He looked at her, lips still chapped and eyes sunken in, as if he had not slept in days. "I am called Gawain, son of Lot and Prince of Orkney, the Ladies' Knight." He stared at her as she passed him a glass of water.

It wasn't hard to believe something so ridiculous when he had come through her closet.

"And might I have the honour of learning the name of such a brave and sweet lady?" He said as he took the glass of water from her hands.

Jeanne rubbed her neck, standing straight. "I… my name doesn't really matter. What does is…how did you get here?"

Gawain furrowed his brows, smile fading, "What do you mean to say? Was it not you who brought me under your wing?"

She shook her head, looking over at her closet. "You came in through the closet."

"Closet?" He blinked.

She walked towards the closet, opening the door. "You came in through here." She pointed at the clothes.

Finally, it seemed he had realized the gravity of the situation he was in. He looked at the closet in horror, immediately looking around the room, stunned and frightened, to say the least. The pain in his left arm was forgotten and he took hold of the pommel of his sword.

Slowly, Jeanne closed the closet door, taking calculated steps towards him.

He drew his sword once he saw her inch closer to him. "Who are you?" He stood from his place on her bed, "And, where am I? What sort of sorcery is this?"

She lifted her hands in the air. "My name is Jehanette. And again, you are the one who came into my room, I wish to know as much as you do."

The loud footsteps of her brother stomped up the stairs and her heart began beating at dangerously high speeds. The knock on her door soon came and the knight aimed his sword at the door.

"Yo, Jeanne, what the hell? What's going on?" Her brother called, pounding on the door. "I suggest you open up before I tell maman."


	3. two

_strange clothes, strange words  
a heartbeat in a new world_

two

Jeanne made her way to the man, a finger placed on her lips before pushing him towards the bathroom in a harsh fashion. He gave her a glare, frown on chapped lips and eyes narrowed. "My parents will drown me in the tub if my brother sees you." She returned the stern look and it seemed as if he got the message. He entered the washroom without any further complaint and gently closed the door behind himself.

"Jeanne," the pounding persisted, "Jehanette, I am giving you ten seconds. One…two…three…"

Fixing herself, Jeanne made sure there was no trace of the man left behind, before she walked to the door, slowly opening it and meeting the face of her older brother. His brown hair was messy and tossed all over the place, he had a deep frown on his lips and his arms crossed over his chest.

"What's going on? I heard voices." He blinked in annoyance, squeezing the controller in his right hand. "Don't even think of making up excuses, you suck at lies."

Jeanne opened the door fully. "There's no one in my room," she spoke, "Though I was talking to someone."

"Who?"

"A man," she replied, "I was talking with a young man."

Her brother frowned. " _Really_? What's his name?"

"His name is Gawain. He came in through my closet."

Jean shut his eyes, taking a deep and leveled breath before he rubbed his temple. "Jehanette, not everyone has the same imagination as you do, and this isn't Narnia. Anyways, it's late so stop watching movies and go to sleep. And tell mister _Gawain_ ," her brother rolled his eyes at the name, "to go home."

"Sure will," she smiled, "goodnight!"

"Yeah, whatever; just try not to make so much noise."

Jeanne nodded promptly. "Oh," she called just as her brother turned around, "is papa home?"

Jean turned back, violet eyes blinking as he nodded. "Yeah, he arrived before the blackout."

"I'll bid my goodnight to him," she said as she closed the door behind herself and both the siblings descended the stairs. They parted at the second floor while Jean went to his room (presumably to continue playing video games) and Jeanne went to greet her father, who was having dinner before he and her mother went to bed.

"How is my brave little golden star?" Her father asked, a smile lighting his strong and tired face. He was an older man now, having five children to which one already had a family of his own. Mister d'Arc had thick dark brown hair that was wavy upon his head, blue eyes that glinted brightly with his light and cheery attitude. He had a few thin scars on his cheeks which he had attributed to childhood adventures. Mister d'Arc was a strong character, much like his daughter. He had a sturdy opinion but a gentle heart.

Jeanne smiled, giving her father a kiss on the cheek. "How was work, papa?" She asked, taking a few steps towards the fridge.

"No fair, I asked you first, sweetie," he laughed.

She pulled the fridge's door open, checking for anything that was quick to eat. "I am doing well, school was shut down due to weather conditions but I'm certain it will be open tomorrow."

"Oh, my sunflower," her father sighed from his place at the dinner table, "did you get stuck in the cold for too long? Did you freeze out there?"

She shook her head, "No, the only bus that took ages was the thirty-five, but it wasn't that cold when I was waiting." She pulled out some fruit and two cupcakes before placing them all in a bowl.

"Oh, that's good. Busses are very unreliable."

Jeanne looked back at her father, handing him a few grapes. "Did you remember to eat lunch today?" She asked.

Jacques laughed. "Oh, my little girl is growing up to be such a caring lady." He gave her a short hug from his place on his seat.

"Where are you going with those?" Isabel asked, "You know there's no food allowed in the bedrooms."

Jeanne stopped in her tracks, as she was taking a step towards the stairs. "But maman, just this once, please."

"Nu-uh young lady," her mother frowned.

Jeanne gave her best puppy eyes—never once used before—and looked between her mother and her father.

Jacques gave a frown. "Oh sweetheart, let my golden star have her snack upstairs just this once."

There was absolutely no doubt that Jeanne was her father's baby girl, even if Catherine was younger. She earned a billion nicknames from her father but 'golden star' seemed to be his favourite; his daughter was always shining bright, whether in school or other matters. Jeanne also loved to spend time with her father because he was always light and fun while her mother was the stricter figure but would act more like a teenager at other times.

"Jacques, you know very well that it's a house rule and even your baby girl must abide by it." Isabel crossed her arms over her chest, frown on her lips.

"Oh, do let her just this once, honey."

"No."

"Maman," Jeanne pleaded, "I will never ask you again, I promise."

" _No_."

 _Trshh_!

The noise filled the house, it seemed to come from Jeanne's room and immediately everyone fell silent.

"What was that?" Isabel asked, brows furrowed as she looked up.

Jacques leaned towards the stairs, checking if the sound would repeat itself. "Did something fall?"

Jeanne's eyes grew, and she gave a nervous laugh. "I—I'll go check what that was." She said before running up the stairs. "Oh, goodnight papa, maman!" She called from the second floor and continued her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She opened the door, realizing she had brought the bowl amidst the rush of things and set it on her bed before she opened the bathroom door. There she saw the sight of the knight in the tub, wrapped in the shower curtain and curtain rod balancing over his head.

To her surprise, her siblings had not questioned the noise, or they were fast asleep.

She looked around, noting all her belongings scattered all over the place. Her shampoos, bath gels, hair products, lotions—everything was a mess; straightener, curler, _everything_. "What happened?" She gave him a look of bewilderment, a hand tangling in her hair.

"I…" his cheeks were lit red, "I cannot move."

She huffed, "You've made a mess, what happened? _H-how_?"

"This…this place? Where am I?"

"My bathroom. This is a bathroom. This here," she pointed, "is the sink, toilet and finally, the shower. Why did you wreck my bathroom?"

"In my defense, my lady, I was left unattended." He moved but stopped when his arm pained him.

She walked to him, helping him out of both the tub and curtain shower. He was heavy, and she assumed it also had to do with the armour weighing him down. "Now, please explain what happened."

"I wish to know where I am. This sorcery is beyond me! There are no candles and yet light emits from those round drops in the ceiling. There's no fire and yet the storm outside is clouded with the warmth inside this house. Furthermore, the outhouse is inside the sleeping chambers and…" He looked around, "How is such an illusion possible? I have never once encountered something so…"

They left the bathroom, also leaving the mess behind and went back into the bedroom. "This isn't some…witch's illusion or…sorcery. This is England."

"England?" He scoffed, "I know England very well and have travelled the very contours and expanses of the kingdom. I can assure you that you are mistaken, this is not England…This is..."

" _England_ ," she said, "it's England in the year 2018."

He stared at her and burst into laughter. _Loud laughter_. "You are a fine jester."

"Shhh! Keep quiet! I think I've already told you that my parents—I don't even know what they would do if they find out you're here." She covered his mouth, silencing his ridiculous laughter.

He stared at her, then it seemed to be sinking in that this wasn't _his_ England. Moving her hand from his mouth as he spoke, "You…this is not a jest, is it?"

Jeanne shook her head. "I am sorry, Gawain—"

"Sir Gawain," he corrected.

She sighed, "Sir Gawain. But this…wherever you might come from, I don't know how you'll get back but honestly… I don't even know how you got here. You ran in through the closet and that's about all I know."

He watched her, analyzing her clothing and then the room around him. He noticed the plate of food. "Is that for me?" He asked, his stomach growling.

She nodded. "But one of the cupcakes is mine."

He filled his mouth with the fruit first, leaving the cupcake for last. "This…thank you. I wish to apologize for drawing my sword on you earlier. It was out of freight and it was an unreasonable action. I wish to say that my king so forbids raising a sword against any type of lady, even if she be a witch."

Jeanne frowned. "Well, I am no witch, I fully assure you of that."

"I could tell with a glance at the many icons you have. You seem very devout, lady Jehanette." He gave her a smile, before continuing to devour the food. "Though, if what you say is true…"

"I never lie," she frowned, "and for once I wish it was a lie. Do you…do you know how you got here?"

Gawain sighed, taking his first bite of the cupcake. His eyes lit up immediately. "What a heavenly taste. My lady, did you make this yourself? It is completely superb! I would have never imagined a delicacy so divine; truly a work of art."

Jeanne smiled. "I bought it, form the superstore. They aren't anything special. My mother makes better ones."

"Better ones? I cannot even imagine something more ethereal than this, but I am most intrigued."

Jeanne wanted to laugh. The knight, as manly as his attire told her him to be, he resembled a child on Christmas day, filling himself with sweets as his eyes were filled with wonder and excitement.

"Now, I assume you wish to speak of our…predicament. Well, it was the night of the twentieth day in the third month—"

"So, the twentieth of March?"

"If the third month is called March, then yes. I trudged through the deep and difficult snow of a long winter. There was horrid and frightful thunder as lighting struck. When the night settled back into the blizzard, I came upon a cabin, one I had never before seen. In fact, I had been through that spot—for I know very well the enormous birch tree they call Solitude surrounded by the Fence of Peace—and there had been no cabin, not even in the autumn or summer…it was never there before…or at least I had never seen it…" He looked at the closet, his brows furrowed in contemplation and he squinted. 'I…the lightning seemed to strike the spot where the house appeared, but I could not be certain for the blizzard was thick and harsh."

Jeanne too looked over at the closet. "And then?"

He looked back at her. "A warm fire is a bewitching thing in the middle of winter, my lady." His eyes darkened. "In it you see your deepest wishes and desires. It…enraptures you in its flaming arms and burns your reason."

Jeanne watched him, he looked troubled, slightly lost in some other thoughts. "What happened?"

His blue eyes settled once more, life returning to them. "My hand…" He looked at his left hand. "I went to open the door, my hand on the knob and lightening struck once more. Everything was clothed in an intense white light, one that pained me. That is all. I woke up here when I came to my senses."


	4. three

_author's note_

Welcome back to my fic! I hope you like this chapter. I really loved it myself and hope you all do too.

In other news, I have started writing my own original story. It's just a creative piece that I'm doing on the side; nothing serious but I do intend to update it regularly and keep i in main focus. If you're interested in reading it, send me a message and I will give you the link or you can check it out on my tumblr!

sincerely,

 _Ms. AtomicBomb_

* * *

 _morning brings what night often hides  
new adventures, with ample exploration  
_

three

Jeanne awoke, the loud alarm on her phone filling the room. She rolled about, reaching over towards the phone, taking it in her hands and silencing it. She sat up, hair a complete mess as she looked about her room lazily, she already knew that campus was open, seeing that there were no notifications on her home screen that belonged to the university.

She stood from the makeshift bed on the floor. "I guess it really wasn't a dream…" She mumbled as she looked upon the body occupying her bed. The knight had put up a great fight after she had given him the bed. He said it was not 'chivalrous' of him to let a 'lady' sleep on the floor, but after her persuasion (and she was very persuasive) he had agreed that only for that night he would accept her bed.

Pulling open her closet, she checked if it had finally opened to the other world, but after accepting defeat, she pulled out her outfit for the day and a winter jacket. Glancing at the man once more, she gave a sigh and headed off towards the bathroom, obviously locking the door. Her morning routine commenced (although the washroom was a mess), and she took her shower and commenced the tedious process of drying her hair.

After she was done, she exited the bathroom. "Oh, good morning." She greeted the man who was now sitting on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

"Good morning, my lady," he yawned.

She rubbed her neck. "You can't stay here alone. My mother usually stays home and if you make any noise she won't fail to come in and investigate."

"We must find a way for my return. I can't idly stay here and do nothing."

"Though," Jeanne frowned, "there's a huge problem. If you want to come with me… you can't possibly leave the house wearing…well, your clothes…you need something more… _modern_."

Gawain looked down at his clothing. "I beg your pardon, my lady? This is the latest fashion, as granted to us by the king himself."

She smiled, "Yes, but sadly, they aren't in fashion anymore, although the outfit is lovely. I'd have to borrow some clothing from my brother or possibly ask Artie for some clothing."

The knight just stared at her. "Women…they wear trousers?"

Jeanne looked down at her jeans, nodding. "Yes, they do. They also wear very revealing clothes."

He frowned. "How disappointing. I think that a dress compliments a lady nicely, but times have changed, and I don't expect them to stay the same for me."

"Well, women also work now, so don't be surprised to see women lifting things and doing hard labour jobs."

"What? A woman shouldn't be driven to this. Of course, they are strong and, well…men should be the ones to…truly the world has changed."

Jeanne nodded, "Yes." She walked to the door. "Now, please stay put. I will get you a change of clothes and a towel for you to change out of _that_."

He watched as Jeanne left the room, closing the door behind herself. But curiosity washed over him, he was dying to get to know everything around him, it was a whole new world that he could've never imagined. He stood, glancing down at his discarded armour plates, he would have to put them on after the shower. Finally, the knight explored the room, for all he knew was the washroom.

Gawain took light, calculated steps. Such wonder, such…perfection. The structure of the room was very well thought out and he looked at all the symmetrical structures—the window, the door frames, everything… His eyes landed on a mirror, which he had already analyzed the night before.

"It captures your features so…precisely." He stared at his reflection, reaching out towards it, fingers grazing the smooth, reflective surface. He disliked the mirror, he thought it was a bewitching thing and he had true dislike for it, but he wanted to acquaint himself with such an enemy. After he had deemed he'd given the mirror enough of his time, he looked around a little more. There were pictures that he saw on the corners of the vanity and he looked at them in awe.

"How fascinating! To think the artist of these really captures the essence of the Lady Jehanette…without a single brush stroke. What material is this made of? Parchment or canvas does not feel so smooth…" He saw the many pictures of Jeanne, seeing that there was another reoccurring lady next to her. "How much do portraits cost nowadays? Although they are small, they have fine details and richness of colour. Such splendid work, I would love to get one of myself."

Something made a sound; he identified it as some sort song but stranger—more pitchy and strained. It was strange. He thought it was possibly the sound of a xylophone or another instrument, but it was quicker, a human could not play at such a speed and he couldn't see anyone that made such a noise. Something vibrated and the ringtone persisted.

Gawain caught a flashing light that came from the bedside table. He walked to it with caution, taking a hairbrush from the vanity. He peaked at the rectangle that lit up, made noise, and moved. "What are you?" He asked, pointing the hairbrush at it. "I demand an answer in the name of our King; Arthur of the house of Pendragon!"

The object continued to make noise.

It seemed to be alive, as anything that lives makes noise and moves. Though, it never answered his request. The object became still and silent and stopped flashing, thus he reached for it; poking it.

It did not move.

He picked it up. It looked to be lifeless; it had no heartbeat or breath.

It rung once more, lighting up and shaking in his hands. He threw it unto the bed, shuddering and taking a few steps back.

"Answer me!" He commanded.

It only continued ringing.

Seeing as it did not make drastic movements, he reached once more for it, seeing a portrait of the other lady in Jehanette's paintings and two circles below it; one green and one red. "How does such a portrait appear and disappear… _fascinating_."

He touched the green circle.

"Jeanne!" It talked. It _bloody_ talked!

He threw it back onto the bed.

There was a sound of distorted shuffling. Then it spoke, "Jeanne?" The voice was softer now.

"What are you?" He asked the voice. "Speak up!"

"Who is this?" It was the voice of a woman, definitely!

"I am Gawain of Orkney, the Ladies' Knight! I ask once more, what are you?"

" _Who_? Excuse me, who are you? Where is Jeanne? I'm sure this is not the wrong number."

He looked around. _Wrong number_? Is that what they called jests? "I am not the lady Jehanette; she has stepped out of her chambers."

" _What_?"

"Lady…Glowing Rectangle, I ask again, what are you?"

Precisely, the door opened, and Jeanne gave a mortified expression. "What's going on?" She asked, "Who are you talking to?"

Gawain shot his head toward her, mirroring the petrified look. He pointed with the hair brush at the talking object. "Lady Glowing Rectangle," he replied. "A most frightening thing."

Jeanne ran to the bed, dropping the clothes at the door. "Hello?" She brought the thing to her ear. "Artie, oh my goodness. I am so sorry."

He gave her a distressed expression. "My lady! I daresay, step away from that… _thing_. It could be dangerous!"

"Shush! It's a phone, it isn't going to kill anyone." She frowned. "—No, sorry. That's uhm. His name is Gawain…yeah, sorry. I…I'll talk to you about it later." She gave him a glare. "Yeah, I know. Honestly, he's an acquittance of sorts. I met him yesterday…Ye—No! Arturia, please, why would you say something like that? Please. Okay, bye, I'll see you at school and we'll talk about it then. Yeah, okay. Bye…Yes, bye."

Jeanne pulled the phone away from her ear and poked it before she turned to him. "I told you to stay put." She gave a frown.

"I do apologize, lady Jehanette. Though, the 'phone' began to squeak? And it truly frightened me. I may seem…ridiculous to you, my lady, but you must surely understand that I have never seen something such as a 'phone' before. How does it speak and move without so much as a heartbeat?"

She looked at him, accepting the fact that he was unfamiliar with technology and well…everything. "You see," she held up the phone, "this thing is used to communicate with people, like letters or something…" She unlocked it. "It also does many other things. You can play games on it, take pictures, access the internet…and obviously talk to other people. So, if my father is at work and I am at home and need him to bring me something, I can call him or write to him (we call it texting) to ask him to bring me what I need. Or if I am far away I can speak with my friends and family to keep in touch."

He just stared at her again, then looked at the unlocked phone. "So, it connects people? How superb! This world is such a…I have no words."

"Yes, now, you have to take a shower and change into the clothes I brought you. My mother will wake up soon and when she does…well, you'd need to be out of the house by then. I brought some of my brother's clothes as I know that Jean's would be a bit too small on you. So, do you know how to use the shower?"

He blinked in response.

Jeanne sighed, picking up the clothes from the floor and leading him to the bathroom. "Now, ignoring the mess you made, the shower is simple to use. You just turn it. The more you turn the more water it shoots out. The water comes from the shower head which is right there. Now, if you turn the knob to the right there will be cold water, to the left you get hot water."

"Hot water? You needn't boil it?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No. There's a furnace in the basement which heats the house and the water."

"This world is made of so much opportunities and everything is at your fingertips! How fascinating!"

"Yes, it is all pretty cool if you think about it. So, another thing. When you need to use the bathroom, remember to flush the toilet."

"Ah, what does that do?"

"It gets rid of everything in the toilet," she pressed her lips together. "So, take a shower and change into these clothes. I will have to give you one of my father's winter coats; I'm sure he won't miss it. Please, again, don't make a mess."

"I can't thank you enough, my lady, your patience is outstanding!" He gave her a smile, which made him look healthier. Now that he was well rested, the bags under his eyes had slightly disappeared but his lips were still chapped.

"Do not leave the bathroom until you are fully dressed; remember that."

"I would not even think of it."

Jeanne nodded. "Good, now I'll be back soon and wait in the bedroom until you're finished."

"Thank you…oh! The…" He looked at the mirror, "the _**mirror.**_ Is there a possible way to…cover it maybe? I do not like it very much."

Jeanne frowned. "I will find something but for today you will have to settle with it the way it is…"

"Thank you, it is very kind of you." He gave her another smile.

She hoped that the clothing would fit him. If he was going to stay, she needed to buy him some clothing and find a place for him to stay. There was no way that he could stay in her house unannounced, unless Arturia came up with something. Arturia, oh how skeptical she would be when she heard the story.


	5. four

_beasts, machines and snowflakes  
with nothing more than a few mistakes  
_

four

Gawain had found it difficult to put on the clothing given to him, but a knight must accept and conquer every challenge they may face…thus, he was able to dress himself properly. His left shoulder ached, but it seemed that the capsule she had given him the night before worked wonders since he was in severely less pain; he thought it could be like the Opium that was given to them when they were in horrid pain. He found a zipper to be most intriguing thing in accordance to modern clothing for it was nearly like a stitch which came undone and done at one's own request. He also tried to tidy up the best he could, fixing the mess he had made the previous evening and somewhat succeeding. Though, he could not really remember where everything was placed.

He left the washroom only to be met by Jeanne, who was sitting on the bed and looking down at her phone. "My lady," he spoke, catching her attention, "these clothes, what fabric are they made of? These trousers, I have never encountered such a strong and rough fabric, surely this is not naturally made."

"That's what we call 'denim', it's mostly artificial fabrics," she said as she stood from the bed.

"I must also ask, how skilled are the makers of this tunic? They can make something so detailed without embroidery."

"Those are prints." Jeanne fixed her sweater, "They are made by a machine. Machines much like a windmill or watermill that work by themselves. Now, we better get going before anyone else wakes up. Here, put this jacket on and we should be off."

He nodded, slipping into the jacket and failing to put the zipper together due to the pain in his arm (which he could not put through the sleeve of the jacket either).

Jeanne demonstrated how to put the zipper in place before zipping it closed, and he seemed to enjoy playing with it; at least it kept him distracted. She had also put a makeshift arm sling to keep his arm in place. It was a wonder his shoulder was not swollen, even though it should have been.

"Oh," he called.

She looked towards him, "Yes?"

"My sword." He took it from its place at the foot of the bed and began to strap it around his waist with much trouble as he only had one hand to do it.

"What are you doing?" She asked, eyes widening.

He furrowed his brows, "Taking my sword with me, my lady. A knight must always carry his sword in case any danger is to present itself, especially if it be that he travels with a lady. All the more I should sport my sword."

Jeanne shook her head. "No, _no_ , nowadays no one carries swords."

" _What_? That is most irresponsible. A sword is an essential part of a knight. What do knights do nowadays?"

"People that are knighted by the Queen usually are artists, soldiers who have out done themselves or football players."

" _Queen_? Artists? There must be a million questions I wish to ask."

Jeanne frowned, realizing there was so many things he needed to catch up on. "Well, to begin with, England has a Queen right now, she's been ruling for sixty-something years and artists are those who sing and become famous, not artists as in painter and sculptors."

" _How queer_. Knights do nothing nowadays…What are _football_ players?"

"People that play football?" She shrugged, "I'll show you when we get to campus. Now, we should really be off. Leave the sword, if you take it with you, you will be arrested."

"Arrested? How so if there be no knights?"

She blinked, "The police will arrest you for having a weapon out in public and you could get sentenced to jail time."

"Police? What is The Police?"

" _The_ Police is a British rock band; the Police… is an organized system to implement the laws of the Kingdom and arrest those who break such laws that are fundamental to our society. Police officers also are established to protect the citizens from any threat."

"How amazing! By this logic, a Knight is a police."

"A Police _officer_ , yes."

"Extraordinary!"

Jeanne nodded. "Now, we really need to get going or else my mother will wake up soon."

They had made it to the kitchen with a few groans of the wooden floorboards, but they did not seem to make so much noise as to wake anyone up. In the kitchen, Jeanne pulled out the sandwiches she had made for her lunch the previous evening and gave one to Gawain as well as two more pain killers before they crept towards the door (of course he had asked many questions about the kitchen). The only thing that the man had kept were his boots since she had no winter boots for him.

The weather outside was not harsh, per se, but the wind burned their cheeks and noses. They trudged through the high and rough snow, but at least there was no snow blizzard. If you have ever truly encountered snow, you know very well that a snow-less cold windy winter day is much colder than a snowy winter day.

"The sack you carry, it is very practical, I very much admire the handiwork and the great mind that came up with such a smart style." Gawain had not moved his eyes from Jeanne's purple backpack and seemed quite amazed by it.

"Thank you," she smiled, "it was also made by a machine."

"Machines are truly the future, are they not?"

"Yes."

It wasn't a better timing to reach the road and have a car whoosh past them. The knight stumbled back onto the snow with a yelp. "W-what beast was that? Such noise, such figure; it is a frightening thing!"

Jeanne offered a hand and he took it with gratitude. "That was a car," she said as she helped him to his feet.

"A car? What is it?"

"Another machine. It is somewhat like a carriage, it transports people without the need of a horse."

He watched the road and saw a few more cars, he was still frightened; his heart beating rapidly and his eyes staring in torment. "Are they dangerous?"

She swayed her head. "They can be if driven carelessly."

They had reached what she called a bus stop and waited for a 'bus'. When it did come, she tapped a card against what he assumed was another machine and handed the driver a ticket. They took a seat at the back of the bus and once the bus moved, Gawain jumped to his feet immediately.

"H-how does it move without so much as one horse?" He asked, sitting back down and calming his poor heart, seeing as no one was frightened. "Is it magical?"

She sighed, "It's an engine. It uses torque and causes combustion so that energy is formed, and the car moves."

"Torque? What is that?"

"Pistons, _basically_."

This went on, she explained everything he had questions on and helped him understand many other things. He had wondered about what had happened to horses, about cables, about dresswear and many other things. Everything was an adventure, and this was surely an experience he would never have again.

They reached campus in nearly thirty minutes and luckily the bus connections had favoured them for Jeanne had said that sometimes it would take nearly an _hour_ to get to school.

Gawain's eyes were filled with wonder and he was starstruck. Everything he saw, he questioned or analyzed in deep thought. He seemed a lot like a child; in the way he explored and marvelled.

"This is a university? Commoners and merchants can attend university nowadays? How kind! Universities were a rare thing—there were none in England—and only ever in Rome in my time. Does the Queen pay? How do the commoners afford such a luxury?" He questioned, touching the copper wall and looking at all the posters.

Jeanne shrugged, "Something like that. The government pays for very poor people but its something like a loan, you would have to pay it back whenever you can."

"But that is still kind. What about farmers? Are there still farmers? Do they attend schools?"

"Well, yes, there are still farmers and they attend schools too."

"I am appreciating this world more and more. Though, I still wish to return. I prefer _my_ England."

" _Jeanne_?"

Jeanne turned to see her best friend, arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her lips. Gawain noticed that she too wore trousers and a thick blue jacket with real fur on the hood, not like the fake fur he had.

He bowed. "Greetings, fair lady. I am Gawain of Orkney, the Ladies' Knight."

Arturia frowned. "Who's this?" She asked, looking over at Jeanne as Gawain slowly stood.

Jeanne sighed, "It's a long and crazy story. You won't believe me."

"A long story? Then you better begin telling me before class starts."

The cafeteria was usually very silent in the morning. People that had morning classes were tortured souls that still wished to be snuggled in the warmth of their blankets and not sitting at school, so, campus in the morning was silent and peaceful as people slept in the library or in their classrooms. Plus, with the snow storm, it was likely that many students would not even dream of going to school.

Arturia scoffed, "You expect me to believe that?" They were the only ones in the cafeteria at the time, except for the people that were working.

Gawain was sitting next to Jeanne, poking the smartphone as Jeanne had lent it to him so he could play with it. Arturia sat across from them and tried to analyze the man for a long time.

"You know that I never lie." Jeanne scratched her neck, having taken off her jacket for the cafeteria was always the warmest spot in the university.

Arturia huffed. "That's the problem. You never do, but this is too ridiculous to believe."

Gawain lifted his head. "If I may so say a word, dear ladies, I testify that the lady Jehanette's accounts are as real as can be. Although I feel I am still in such a dream, I could never let such a caring lady be discredited."

The Englishwoman leaned her head on her hand. "Tell me, Gawain—"

"Please call me Sir Gawain, Lady Arturia. The title was granted to me by my mighty and brave King for having helped in the great battle against the Saxons." He looked up as if stuck in a daydream or remembering the great feat.

" _Sir Gawain_ ," Arturia nearly growled, "you really do play the part well, but I suggest you do not play along with Jeanne's first farce."

Gawain jumped to his feet, chair tumbling to the floor and the crashing sound echoing all over the cafeteria. "I do implore with the most respect, lady Arturia, do not make light of the lady Jehanette's troubles and toils. This is as much troublesome for her as it is for me; she is being truthful and has offered me so much hospitality and she is very brave."

Arturia stared at him in surprise and slight annoyance. "Okay, you can sit now."

Slowly, head still held high, he sat. "The lady Jehanette is nothing near a swindler."

"I know." Arturia blinked. "That is what forces me to believe this…This is really impossible. How could a man jump through time? That's _ridiculous_."

"I find it hard to believe as well, lady Arturia, and I am still discovering this world and continuing to be frightened by such advancement and machinery, but I can assure you that I am surely not of this world."

"So, what now?" Arturia looked at Jeanne.

Jeanne ran a hand through her hair, slumping onto the table. "We have to find a way to get him back to where he belongs. I just don't know how we could do it. What if he can't return?"

Gawain gasped, "My lady, please, do not say something so…I wish to return very much and if I cannot…I will surely…"

"It's a possibility," Arturia deadpanned, "We must be prepared to face it."

"This England is not for me, ladies, I live to be a knight and aid my king. There is no way I could possibly live a life in such a…" Gawain stared at them in anguish.

"Don't worry," Jeanne mumbled, "I'm sure we'll come up with something and get you home."


	6. five

_Myths and legends  
hurt more than injuries_

 _five_

Gawain sat in class with them, a rather fitting subject, or so he deemed; British history beginning from the middle ages and ending at the present time. Though, since it was nearly the end of the semester, they were already at the present. He sat still, amazed by the speakers, projectors, computers and students themselves. He was very attentive to the professor, hearing her speak about the regime and 'commonwealth'. He also grew astonished by the fact that there was land beyond the thick Atlantic waters. In fact, he had even been more surprised when the professor spoke about a 'constitutional monarchy', which he ruled was absurd and took the power away from the King and all the monarchy.

"How unjust," he breathed, "I think that this is truly something horrible."

Jeanne shrugged. "You should read up on the French revolution; I think that's worse."

Gawain's eyes widened. "The French? Who are the French? And they revolted? Oh, how depressing!"

"Shush, the teacher is trying to explain something," Arturia hissed.

Jeanne had lent him a pencil and a piece of paper, so that he could scribble and what not if he got bored, but he found the class interesting and did not really lose focus, although he sometimes noticed some people were looking at other things.

Gawain had said that the class ended much too soon, but he'd heard others complain that it had been long and boring.

"How can they say something like that? I believe the lesson was informative and interesting. Do you ladies not agree?" He asked as the young women packed their things and prepared to leave the classroom.

"Yes, it's interesting." Jeanne smiled.

Gawain looked at the teacher, seeing that there was a line of people. "What are they doing? What do they wish to speak with her about?"

"Well, if they have questions, they go and ask her."

"Could I ask her a few questions about my King? I wish to know more about him, see how he succeeded and how my fellow knights grew to be legends." Gawain could not wait, so he excused himself and ran towards the line, waiting his turn.

"Who was his king?" Arturia asked, keeping her eyes on Gawain as he spoke to the teacher.

Jeanne frowned. "I forgot. He said his name, but I was still very dazed when he told me. Honestly, he really looks up to him, so it must be a great guy."

Arturia narrowed her eyes, seeing as the smile on the knight's face faded. "Well, it didn't go so well." She shrugged as they walked down the stairs of the auditorium and reached the knight, who was frowning, brows furrowed with watery eyes.

"What happened?" Jeanne asked, tilting her head.

Gawain did not reply, instead he walked to the door, ignoring the ladies and opting to leave.

"Who could it have been?" Arturia scoffed. "The poor man feels let down."

" _Artie_ ," Jeanne nagged, "don't rejoice in his pain. He's obviously sad. You shouldn't rub salt on the wound."

Arturia shrugged and they went after the young man who was just sitting in front of the classroom, sulking in the corner.

"Hey," Jeanne called, sitting down next to him, "what happened?"

He looked away, out the window and at the snowy terrain outside. He took a deep breath, "Your _professor_ ," he spat the title, "said that my king is nothing more than a mere legend. A _myth_. How could she call herself an expert in British history when she has been taught wrongly?"

Arturia sat down at the table as well. "Who was your king?"

Gawain looked at Arturia. "You resemble him quite a lot, lady Arturia."

Arturia raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jeanne for a second. "How so?" She asked.

"My king has blond hair, like the golden sun on a warm afternoon and his eyes are as green and vibrant as the jewels adorning his crown and he holds himself in such poise and grace. He is a great king as well as a great man. He is called Arthur of the House of Pendragon."

Arturia furrowed her brows. "Arthur Pendragon? As in the one who made the Knights of the Round? _That_ king Arthur?"

"Yes, I was a Knight of the Round. King Arthur is the king England has always hoped for and in his reign, England is the best it can be."

Her laughter burst. " _Oh please_! Jeanne, I don't know who he is, but he is no knight."

"Excuse me, lady." He sat straight. "I am a knight; how dare you speak like such? That is a rude and horrible thing to say! I don't take such offences lightly."

"Arthur Pendragon is a legend. Just like the Prof said; he's a _myth_. It's a story told by mothers to their children, so they could believe in magic and justice. How absurd! You should've chosen another king if you wanted to make this believable." She rolled her eyes.

Gawain stood. "He is real, as real as your right hand and the very boiling water that burns you."

"Are you being serious?"

"I do not jest when it comes to my king!"

"King Arthur is not real! You should just accept it."

He glared at the Englishwoman. " _How dare you_? I implore you to stay silent on a matter you know not! I take back what I said, you are nothing like King Arthur. You are a sad little lady that has no knowledge and is ignorant to reality. _You know nothing_."

"Excuse me? Which one of us is educated?" She too stood, challenging him.

"Guys, please calm down." Jeanne tried to intervene, hoping they would just listen to her.

They both ignored her.

"You may be educated and know whatever fancy things they teach you, but you are a fopdoodle!"

Arturia gasped, "Whatever that means I know it's bad! And right back at you!"

Jeanne too stood. "Guys, come on, let's not fight."

Gawain glanced at Jeanne. "I do apologize that you had to see something like this," he frowned, "and I do know my excuse is not enough, but surely you must understand how hurt I am by her _lies_."

"How about we go search for a solution? Yeah? That would make you feel better, wouldn't it?" Jeanne glared at Arturia and then gave Gawain a smile.

"My lady, you are truly kind and patient, unlike other _ladies_."

Arturia huffed, "Stop acting like a child."

Without anymore insults or pleads, they made their way to the library and immediately headed for any articles on time travel or intensive physics. They were directed to either science fiction or some of Einstein's works. They opted to search Einstein's works first. Though, it was hard searching through all the aisles of the third floor of the library. It was about three in the afternoon when they found something of substance.

Jeanne had continued to read the literary work while Arturia and Gawain watched each other.

"What happened to your arm?" Arturia asked, seeing as he had it in a sling.

Gawain ignored her words, he only continued to stare at her.

"Oh, give it up already. I'm trying to make peace, alright?"

Gawain huffed, "I am still furious, and, in my England, we apologize for the wrongs we have done before anything else."

"Your England? You aren't still pretending to be a knight, are you?"

He gritted his teeth. "Oh, how I wish to go back _now_."

Arturia rolled her eyes once more. "You're acting like a child; my brother is much more mature than you and he is only five."

There was a ring once more, much more different than Jeanne's phone but it still sounded nearly similar, so Gawain guessed it was another phone.

Arturia dug into her jacket's pocket and pulled out a blue phone, sliding her finger across it and answering.

Gawain was still in awe with such an apparatus and he loved to see it working or when Jeanne let him play on it. He was not really paying attention to what Arturia was saying but she seemed to be talking with someone dear to her. Even if Arturia was rude and skeptical, Gawain admired her smile and he thought that she really did resemble his king by appearance.

"Here, I found something," Jeanne piped as she walked towards Gawain. "Here, Einstein explains that time travel is possible, although highly unlikely. The fabric of space and time could have tears and through a blackhole we have a timeless, space-less place; it's odd yes, but maybe the equinox did something. Maybe the fabric tore last night, and you passed through into this world. But it doesn't say anything about how to go back."

Gawain frowned. "What if I must really stay forever?"

"I'm sure you won't. Let's look at some English Folklore, we could probably find something…this could be a spell that was cast if it isn't science." Jeanne closed the book. "I'll take this book out anyway, and—although I hate magic and spells—Arturia could help us with the folklore."

Arturia walked back to them. "Dia is coming."

"What? Arturia, please don't tell him about this." Jeanne frowned.

Arturia blinked. "Personally, I think he would be very helpful. I can tell that you both are serious, but if we're to help him get back, he needs clothing and a place to stay. He cannot possibly stay with you as we know how horrible that would be and I can't keep him at my place. We could say he's a student who comes from the countryside and specializes in medieval history."

Jeanne sighed, "You do know how much I hate lies, right? We'll get caught. What about when they ask us for family or siblings?"

"Only child whose mum is much too old and has to remain in the country."

"Arturia, that's a big lie that we can't cover, I swear."

"If Diarmuid houses him, then he could lend him clothing and we give him money to keep him healthy. He'll join us for some classes and what not. I know it sounds difficult, but we can do it! Plus, Diarmuid can be trusted; he's smart and he's studying injuries. Which, seeing by Gawain's arm, he needs all the help he can get."

Jeanne looked at Gawain.

"My lady, I trust your judgement, and whatever you choose I will support your decision. I don't want to cause you trouble or for your parents to harm you because of me."

Arturia shot her head towards Jeanne.

"Right," Jeanne nodded, "I didn't actually mean that they would kill me, it's a figure of speech, Gawain."

"Oh," he held a hand to his heart, "I feel much more at ease now."

Arturia fixed the bag on her shoulders, giving a confident look. She always seemed to have authority. "So, have we settled it? Will we be telling Diarmuid?"

Jeanne was silent for a while, but she nodded, looking up at Gawain. "I think if Dia knows, we'll be able to make this work better and hopefully get you home very soon and back to your king. As well as fix your shoulder and check if anything has happened to it that might need medical attention."

Gawain nodded. "I agree, my lady."

"Great," Arturia nodded, "so let's head to the folklore section and I will tell Diarmuid to meet us there. What exactly are we looking for?"

"We are looking for time travel enchantments, there surely must be something," Gawain replied, "Or of odd disappearances that were attributed to a particular place, or enchantment."

Arturia nodded. "Let's begin then, I'm sure we wouldn't want to waste too much time."


End file.
